


Cold Lips, but a Sweet Kiss

by NinePercentofChina



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dysfunctional Family, Gossip, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Underage Drinking, he just needs a hug and a nice game of pubg, in the head and elsewhere, slight bullying later on, xukun doesn't know what love is, xukun is in constant sad angry boi hours, ziyi is nice but kind of thick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 17:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17853770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinePercentofChina/pseuds/NinePercentofChina
Summary: Ziyi wasn't expecting to pick up anyone on a rainy Tuesday night. Much less, a cute classmate of his from the side of the highway.





	Cold Lips, but a Sweet Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> for once this fic isn't going to have anything too dark or racy! it'll just be mostly relationship building and school drama this time i swear uwu

The smell of cigarettes and too-strong alcohol clung to his house, his clothes, his hair, and even his skin. It was everywhere, and it was revolting. No matter how many times he walked into this dark, shabby apartment, through that same paper door. Lightweight and cheaply made, yet still oh so oppressive. Displeasing off-white walls loomed over him, confining him, much like those prison walls of the same delinquents he liked regarding as inferior. He came home to a kitchen that never seemed to have any food, a group of people lazing around the living room high off who-knows-what, and that same, revolting smell that seemed to radiate from the purest molecules of oxygen. 

 

It wasn’t that they were particularly poor, it was that no decent landlord wanted Xukun’s father living anywhere near their complex with his track record, and that the man himself seemed much more willing to spend money on other, more temporary things. His friend group, the only people Xukun could consider his family, consisted of shameless petty criminals and overbearing addicts, consistently making half-rude comments or aggravating outcries. All in all, it wasn’t the best environment, and he realized it. 

 

But still, every day, he would come home in the afternoon to someone new taking refuge from the police on their old, worn out couch. Maybe it was just a thieve or addict, maybe it was an unrelenting killer. Xukun had learned to stop asking. 

 

He would come home to some new remnant of something illegal strewn over the coffee table. Sometimes it was powder, drawn into messy lines or leaking out of paper wrapping. Sometimes it was pills, all colorful pretty, spilling out of bright orange bottles. Sometimes it was needles, half fallen off the table. Never a drop of liquid, though, no one wanted their precious black tar being wasted. 

 

He would come home to different people, different things, different sounds, different moods, but he would always come home to that same, rancid smell. 

 

He was still lucky though, lucky enough. He had education, he had money, he had maybe one friend, and a few acquaintances. Not that he particularly cared for social interaction, though, much preferring to just stick with himself over anything else. 

 

So, when his father grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out, right when he placed his jacket away, he didn’t appreciate it. 

 

“Where the hell are you dragging me??”   
  


His father didn’t bat an eye at him, simply shoved him into the car, and slammed the door shut. Xukun sighed, laying down on the cold backseat and waiting for his father to join him in the car. It was still quite cold in early march, but he knew better than to go back to get his jacket, only to have to interact with the man more in the near future. He wasn’t sure what could have gotten his father so aggravated. While he was by no means a kind man, he wasn’t typically aggressive. He tended to prefer not acknowledging Xukun at all, and if he had to, it was cold and brief. Xukun didn’t mind. He didn’t need to be close to his father. He had his room, somewhere to at least call his own, and that was good enough.

 

His father appeared again maybe ten minutes later, and not saying a word, started up the car. The car was far too nice for anyone like them to own, and a great matter of pride to him. Xukun found it just a tad obnoxious.    
  
“Do you wanna tell me where we’re going?” 

 

His father rolled down the window, and placed a cigarette between his lips lazily. “Just the club. Those annoying fucking friends of mine wanted me to drag you in too.” He lit up his cancer stick, carelessly tossing the lighter over the dashboard. 

 

“Ah.” Xukun finally sat up, having enough sense to buckle up. The car went silent after that, so he leaned against the window, and closed his eyes. He had no interest in seeing the same old city for the millionth time, but he had interest in sleeping. Perhaps this was the only thing he found interest in, though he wasn’t too good at it. He was an insomniac. Even if he did get to sleep, terrible, incoherent dreams followed soon after, and his poor brain, sent into overdrive, woke him up at the most inconvenient hours. 

 

His dad pulled into the narrow street, parking his car right outside the doors. It was one of those cheap, low-grade sort of places, lacking in any actual regulations. He expected nothing less from his father’s business. 

 

“Hey Xukun,” the man called, watching his son step out of the car. 

 

“Hm?” 

 

“Give me your hand.”

 

Xukun shivered, pushing past his father and walking inside. “I’m not falling for that again.” He still had the cigarette imprint on his hand, but now that he was older, he didn’t particularly mind. It was a small thing in comparison to everything else life threw at him, and it was a good reminder.

 

The man only cackled, dropping the cigarette to the sidewalk and following him inside. It was a dark, suffocating sort of place. With the occasional strobe lights that did nothing more than blind him further, and musty air permeated by the heavy smell of liquor. They weaved through the people stumbling around, stopping at their usual table. The group of deadbeat adults were sitting around, playing something reminiscent of poker over a couple empty bottles and spilled beer with old, ratty cards. His father immediately joined the boisterous discussion, flopping down in his usual chair at the head of the table. Xukun, in contrast, shuffled around to the side, and silently squeezed onto the bench between two younger woman. They were a bit overbearing, like widowed aunties, but overall harmless. 

 

It took them a while to realize he was even there, but once they did, there was no getting out of it. He found a cheek cling onto his cheek, and a different hand brush roughly through his hair.

 

“Ya, you’re letting him get too thin, he’s looking like a damn girl!” Xukun cringed away from the shouting by his ear, staring down at the table. He didn’t like being assessed like this. 

 

“He’d look like a girl either way, with all those damn genes he get from that woman. Pathetic, right? A man gets everything from his mother.”    
  
Xukun would love to comment that he would much rather have his mother’s traits, but refrained, not wanting a slap at the table. So, just like that, he stared at the table silently until things calmed down, and he could finally slip outside. It was dark by now, and the air was crisper. He really wished he had a jacket. He sunk down onto the sidewalk next to the double door entrance, a burly man smoking next to him. The moon and stars were covered in a sheet of heavy clouds, and he felt just a bit disappointed. The night sky gave him comfort. It would have been a nice distraction. He could sit there, counting stars until he had to go. 

 

Alas, he settled for watching the empty street silently, wishing that warm air didn’t rise, so that he could feel some of the warmth from that cigarette. After some time, maybe ten, maybe thirty, minutes passed, he reached for his phone. ‘23:45.’ He sighed, ignoring the time and opening up his wechat. 

 

He didn’t have many contacts. His mom, for when she wanted to make time to actually talk to her son. Or rather, send money because she felt bad that she couldn’t visit. Three classmates, Justin, Chengcheng, and Quanzhe. He couldn’t call them friends, for sure, but the friend group they belonged to took him in. He never spoke, but he was content to sit at the farthest end of their table, pretending to sleep while really listening to their usually rather amusing conversation. He appreciated the gesture of support. He knew what the rest of the school had to say about him. He had gotten their numbers because of a group project in physics eons ago, but he did still text them occasionally. Finally, was Zhenghao. The one kid he could call his friend. The one person that he could confidently say he really, truly cared for. 

 

Zhenghao knew it all. He walked to and from school with Xukun, even though his mother had warned him multiple times not to wander around Xukun’s neighborhood. Xukun had him to confide in when he really needed to vent. He had Zhenghao to bring him food when he knew Xukun wouldn’t eat, he had Zhenghao to let him lay his head on his shoulder, close his eyes, and get some well-needed rest. He had Zhenghao, and that was precious. So, he called his precious Zhenghao. 

 

‘Kunkun?’ 

Xukun smiled, “Hey Haohao?”

‘Why are you calling, are you okay?’

“Yeah.. yeah, I’m fine, just cold and alone. Did your finish that chapter analysis you needed to do? And did you study?”

‘Don’t worry, I finished everything. It’s late, I should be sleeping Kunkun.’

“Right, right I forgot. I’m so sorry, did I wake you up??”

‘No, no don’t worry about that. What are you doing out so late?’

“My dad get caught up at the club again.” 

‘Ah.’

This left them in a short, but comfortable moment of silence. They soon moved on, discussing everything but the situation at hand for the next fifteen minutes, when Zhenghao finally had to leave. And with good timing, because within the next few minutes, Xukun’s dad stumbled out. He pulled Xukun up without regard for the way his back scraped against the cement wall, and pushed them both into the car. This time, Xukun too shotgun, eyeing his dad speculatively.    
  
“You’re drunk, you can’t drive.”

 

“Fuck off, it’s my car.” 

 

Xukun opened his mouth to retort, but the ignition had already lit up, and he could tell there was no point. He bit his tongue, praying that his dad wasn’t nearly as drunk as it seemed. The streets were empty, fortunately, and for a moment Xukun thought that maybe his father wasn’t as drunk as he seemed. He realized he had started feeling too safe, when he looked around to see that they were on a highway, going up to a good 125 kilometers an hour.  

 

Shakily, he took out his phone, opening up a gps. “Where the hell are we? We’re outside the fucking city!” 

 

His father suddenly slammed down on the breaks at that outburst, whipping his head around. “Who are you to speak to me like that, you fucking brat?!” Rain had started to pound down heavily on the metal and windows, as if the sky too were getting angry. 

 

“How am I supposed to talk to you?! EVEN THE GPS DOESN’T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK WE ARE.”

 

His dad seethed. He could practically see the waves of anger coming off of him. “Open the door.”

  
“It’s raining.”

 

“I TOLD YOU TO OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR.”

 

Xukun slammed the door open, ignoring the cold puff of air and on slew of water. “There. THERE. What do you want now?!”

 

Before he could even fully turn around, he felt a sharp force push him forward, over the seat and out of the car. Damn, neither of them were wearing seat belts. He tumbled down onto the puddle gathering in the cracked asphalt, landing on his side with a pained hiss. The car speeded away before he could even pick himself up, and it took him a full minute to realize that he was really stranded. 

 

Slowly, he heaved himself up from the side of the road. It was freezing, and he was soaked to the bone. He reached around for his phone, only to realize it was useless. His old wouldn’t survive that fall, much less the water. He kicked uselessly at the road, taking out some anger, before shuffling over to sink down on the side. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, seeking any sort of warmth. It was useless, he knew he wouldn’t find it.

 

Xukun had never liked the cold, but none of that mattered. It was cold. The world was cold. Everything happened out of luck and hard work, but for some people, luck meant something more and hard work meant something less. It was unfair, and cold, oh so very cold. So, pulling up his knees, he sat there and thought about how much he wanted to be a child again. 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i'm posting this instead of my other fic :(  
> i appreciate comments most, as usual! thank you all


End file.
